


Red Sky at Night

by Tabithian



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 22:37:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim's had a lot of time to think over the last five years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Sky at Night

**Author's Note:**

> supercomicgirl prompted me with Dick as Dread Pirate Roberts and Tim as the farm boy he kidnaps, and it turned into this? *hands*

Tim's had a lot of time to think over the last five years. About Dick going off to earn money for their wedding, money that he'd earned himself, that wasn't Bruce's. About the pirate attack – _Dread Pirate Roberts_.

So when the masked man kidnapping him (rescuing him) sets him down on the rocks with deliberate roughness, Tim puts his theory to the test. 

The voice is maddeningly familiar, close, so close – and then Roberts lands a blow with his words that staggers him, knocks the breath from his lungs. It's anger and hurt and the need to hurt back and Dick's voice in his mind, _“You never know when you'll need to defend yourself, Tim,”_ as he lashes out.

His eyes fly wide when he hears that voice, so like Dick's, floating up as Roberts tumbles down the hill, what sounds like Dick's words, painfully familiar, “As you wish!”

Tim runs to the edge, looks down at where Roberts has landed, limbs splayed like those of a rag doll.

“Dick, if that's you, I will make sure you regret this,” he grumbles - and carefully picks his way down.

********

Tim looks down at the feared Dread Pirate Roberts. He hasn't killed, him, which is a blessing or curse, he's not sure which just yet. It's all well and good to have theories and guesses and a veritable army of what if's, but it's entirely a different thing to be faced with the possibility that none of it was enough. That he's wrong, that Dick is long dead and he's stubbornly clinging to his memory and nothing more.

Roberts lets out a pained groan, eyes fluttering open.

“Still alive, then?” Tim asks, somehow managing an arch tone, as though he's looking down at some degenerate pirate, scourge of the high seas and murderer of his beloved. “Pity.”

“Such a compassionate young man, surely your people will be ever so grateful.”

Maddeningly familiar, so close, so close. “At least then I would have the pleasure of seeing you executed.”

“Vicious, too. Ra's must be over the moon.” A pause, to let the knife drive itself deeper with each breath. “Ah, but no, he did try to have you killed, didn't he?”

And suddenly Tim is tired of this, of hoping – five years of it, and for what? A fiancé he never loved who tried to have him killed. (Oh, Tim knows, he's no fool.) And a man dressed in black who brings to mind the memory of Tim's old love?

“And what would you do with me?” he asks, sinking down next to Roberts, no longer caring if it isn't Dick, is simply a pirate with a heart as black as the flag that flies for him. A pirate who wouldn't think twice before killing him. “Ask for a ransom? Sell me off like a trinket at market?”

If he sounds bitter, it's five years worth of hope battling for supremacy over five years of grief.

“Highness...”

Tim looks at Roberts. “Am I wrong?”

Roberts looks away, a pained hiss escaping him. “...No.”

Tim laughs, ghost of a sound. “And to think I feel as though I'm better off in your company than my beloved fiancé's.”

********

It's the crew, the way they react to Roberts that cements the possibility in Tim's mind. There are other things, in the journey to the little inlet where his ship is moored that add weight, evidence. Little things here and there, small things, kindnesses, almost that Dick once bestowed on him like breathing.

Tim sits at the bow of the ship that he acts on his suspicions. Turns to the feared Dread Pirate Roberts and speaks.

“That is an atrocious accent, Dick. How can you be so bad at it? You had _Alfred_ to learn from.”

“I. What?”

“Ooh. Farm boy knows how you are, eh, Cap’n?”

“Shut _up_ , Roy.”

Roberts, _Dick_ turns to him, and stares. As though he has no idea what to say, and that would make two of them, but.

“I suppose this explains Bruce's absences now,” Tim muses, heart pounding. He feels dizzy, lightheaded. Hope is a dangerous thing, and this.

“Tim?”

Tim stares at Dick, at what five years at sea has done for him – good things all – and laughs, weak. “I should have known,” is what he says, smiling up at Dick – how did he end up on the deck of the ship without noticing – crouched before him, hands out to steady him. “I should have known.”

He sees Dick say something, but the darkness encroaching at the edge of his vision surges forward, pulling him under.

********  
Tim wakes to warmth at his side, and Dick's voice issuing orders somewhere above him.

“We'll need to sail on the tide, speed is of the essence.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Roy answers, followed later by the sound of a closing door.

“I know you're awake,” Dick says, low, amused. 

Tim opens his eyes to see Dick looking down at him, the line of worry on his forehead at odds with the smile on his lips. 

“Morning, lazybones.”

The cabin they're in must be the captains, maps scattered across a desk set against one wall, swords and other weapons adorning the walls. Early morning light spills through a narrow window high up.

“You're real,” Tim says, regretting it at the look of pain that crosses Dick's face. “Dick - “

“I'm sorry,” Dick says, leaning down to press his forehead against Tim's, just the two of them in the world again, the way it had been before he'd gone away. “I wanted to tell you, I tried to get back before the rumors of -”

“The rumors of your death reached me,” Tim finishes for him, gripping Dick's arms tight.

Dick sags. “Yes, that.”

“I knew,” Tim says, slow, halting. “I think I knew, I mean,” he amends when Dick inhales sharply. “There were things I'd seen that didn't make sense at the time, things that made me wonder.” A laugh, lacking humor. “I didn't think too much of them though, not when there were other things to occupy my mind.”

Dick sighs. “Bruce thought it best if you didn't know,” he says, pulling back to look at Tim, a rueful smile on his face. “We didn't count on the storms that proved too dangerous to navigate, winter coming on early.”

Tim remembers that year, the harsh winter that had killed so many. “You couldn't know.” Not then, no, but - 

“Afterward...” Dick trails off, fingers soothing down Tim's back, over and other, repetitive, calming. “After that it was one thing after another, pirates and the royal navy hunting us, driving us away every time we got close - “ he breaks off mid-sentence and looks at Tim. 

“Ra's,” they say at the same time.

“Bruce warned me,” Dick says, holding Tim closer, pulling him against his chest. “He warned me and I I didn't listen.”

Tim laughs, bitterly. “And to think he said it would be in Florin's best interest.”

“What?”

Tim looks at Dick. “You didn't think I'd marry him for love, did you?” 

For duty, yes. Love? No. Not after Dick.

“Alfred said it wasn't what it seemed,” Dick admits, sheepish now, avoiding Tim's eyes. “But I was gone for years, Tim. I didn't expect you to wait.”

Expected, no. Hoped, yes.

“Five,” Tim says, in the silence. “You were gone for five years.”

Dick winces.

“Idiot,” Tim says, fond. Almost foolishly so. There are lies and hurts between them, so many, but. But Dick is alive, and here, and he came for Tim. Came for Tim when he had no reason to, when he should have left Tim to whatever fate Ra's had in mind for him. 

“Did you know?” Tim asks, seeking out the hand not on his back, weaving their fingers together. “That he meant to kill me?”

“Ra's.” Dick sighs. “He has no time for love,” Dick says, a kindly worded answer. “He cares for manipulating people and political power. He wants the world,” Dick glances at Tim, squeezes his hand. “No matter the cost.”

Tim suspected as much, had seen it in Ra's' eyes.

Silence falls, thick and heavy with it's accompaniment of regrets and what could have beens. Weighing heavy on them.

“Your crew?” Tim asks, as laughter and raucous calls filter down to them. Good natured, at ease. 

“Inherited, mostly,” Dick says, humor returning to his voice with effort. “Although I recruited a few of them.”

Roy's voice, loud and jovial, and Tim knows he's one of Dick's chosen.

Tim nods. “Where do we go from here?” 

Dick tries to catch his eyes, but Tim lowers his head, finds the patterns on the blanket over his legs fascinating. 

“Away from here, for a start. We have a base of operations, hidden from prying eyes.” Dick laughs. “Bruce is there, waiting for us. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you again.”

Perhaps, but. Speaking of. “Alfred?”

“We'll be picking him up on the way,” Dick says, pulling his hand free to lift Tim's head. “He's safe from Ra's and his people, Tim. So are you.”

Tim smiles. “And later? After?”

“Dread Pirate Roberts has a score to settle,” Dick says, arms tightening around Tim. “And he can always use a good man at his side.”

It's more than that, Tim knows, something like relief settling over him. The start of a new chapter in their lives, perhaps. 

“Aye, aye, Captain.”


End file.
